


Trouble

by cliniclyInsane189



Series: Whumptober 2020 [3]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Blood and Violence, Death, Gen, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:56:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26803999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cliniclyInsane189/pseuds/cliniclyInsane189
Summary: Shelley (OC) has a mission go sideways and has to make the most of a bad situation.
Series: Whumptober 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947934
Kudos: 2
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Trouble

**Author's Note:**

> For Whumptober 2020 Day 3 - ‘My Way or the Highway’ - Manhandled | **forced to their knees | held at gunpoint**
> 
> There's a scene where a character is injected with a sedative, but I wasn't sure how to tag that so I made sure to mention it here! And the M rating is just for the violence and the cursing.
> 
> Featuring my oft-reworked Skyfall OC, whose story mostly exists in notes and in my head.  
> Hope you enjoy!

Of all the missions to go completely tits up, it just _had_ to be this one.

It was supposed to be a quick and simple in-and-out – walk in, let the carefully crafted fake ID carry her up to the server room, then down to the archive, then right back out of the front door. No weapons, no comms. No backup.

Unfortunately for her, though, it seemed there was a limited number of people who worked private security in this particular sector of the world, and one of them had recognised her from a previous assignment.

The alarms had sounded when Shelley had been making her way to the exit of the archives. The guards had caught up with her mere metres from the lift.

And that was how she’d ended up here: hunched over, cradling a dislocated wrist against throbbing ribs and her eyes crossing to stare at the barrel of the gun resting between her eyes. She didn’t dare move.

“Get your hands on your head!” One of the guards snapped.

Very slowly, Shelley straightened up, raising her hands as she did.

As soon as they were up, her wrists were grabbed and forced down behind her back, cuffs snapping shut with a loud click.

One of the men behind her shoved her, pushing the gun harder against her forehead.

“Don’t try anything,” the man holding the gun said, then withdrew it. He gestured with it down the hall, then returned it to point at her. “Walk.”

Shelley eyed the group. Six men, all armed with at least one gun. They were currently three storeys below ground level, and with the lockdown in effect, all the doors and lifts would be sealed tight.

She was shoved from behind, again, and allowed herself to stumble into a walk, scanning the corridor as she did.

From what she remembered of the floorplan, the security room on this floor was at the very end of the corridor - the corridor that was lined with cameras and only two other doors - a storage cupboard and the breakroom for archive staff.

She closed her eyes and tried to concentrate.

There was supposed to be vent access in the cupboard, somewhere - that would probably be her only way out.

The sound of a door opening caused her to snap her eyes open. It was the security office. She was shoved inside after three of the men, then the door slammed shut.

Only one of them had followed her in. Four men inside, two out.

And she was on her own.

A foot caught her in the back of her knee and she let herself collapse, keeping one foot curled under her.

None of the men said anything, but one of them stepped away to a desk on the other side of the room, the other three keeping their guns trained on her. There was one behind her and one either side. The man at the desk opened a drawer and pulled something out.

It was a syringe.

Fuck.

She let him approach, watched as he uncapped the syringe, didn’t move as he came closer and the man behind her pushed his gun further into her neck as the two either side took a step away

_One._

She shifted her weight.

_Two_.

She rocked slightly forward.

_Three._

She moved - swinging her free leg round to take out the man to her left and catching the one in front in the side of his knee at the end. As she did, she flung her upper body back to balance herself and caught the guy behind her in the crotch with her head.

He wheezed and doubled over, letting go of his gun and letting it dangle. 

Shelley grabbed the barrel and thrust the stock up into his face with a satisfying crunch, rocking upright and elbowing the man to her right firmly in the kidney as she did. 

The man with the syringe lunged for her, so she spun around and rolled backwards under his arm, contorting her body between her arms to bring her cuffed hands in front of her.

He turned and lunged for her again, aiming for her neck, but she caught his arm, redirected his aim and forced the syringe into _his_ neck, where it automatically dispensed its contents. 

Then Shelley dodged behind one of the two remaining men and looped her arms around his neck, choking him out with the chain from her handcuffs. He reached to try and grab at her, so she wrapped her legs around his waist and leaned back, crossing her wrists.

The man stumbled back, choking, and slammed them both into the wall, jostling Shelley’s ribs painfully.

She tightened her grip and held on, gritting her teeth against the pain sending stars bursting across her vision. Eventually, his struggling slowed. Taking advantage, Shelley loosened the pressure, grabbed his head and, with an efficient and practised twist, snapped his neck.

As he collapsed forward, she went with him, letting the momentum carry her forward into a roll - getting too close to the other man for him to shoot her.

He seemed to realise this, cursing as he tossed it to the side and pulled out a large knife.

Shelley hopped back out of his range, raising her hands in front of her.

This was the one she’d hit in the kidney before - he’d be favouring his other side, expecting her to go for that spot.

No, all she needed to do was wait for him to lunge straight at her, and she’d have him. She just needed to give him an opening first.

She let her guard relax just a little, careful not to make it look deliberate.

He took the bait and went for her neck. She dodged to the side and grabbed his arm, letting his momentum do all the work for her as it forced his arm to twist around. As his arm twisted, Shelley grabbed his wrist and with a press and a twist the knife was on the ground.

She kicked it away and, while she was distracted for that brief second, her opponent kicked her hard in the side of the knee, causing her leg to buckle. He took that opportunity to pull free and punch her between her shoulder-blades.

Shelley stumbled, having to right herself against the wall and then tackle the man as he bent to pick up the knife again. 

There was a brief struggle, then Shelley felt a searing pain across her abdomen. She didn’t let go, however, just twisted and dug into a pressure point in the man’s wrist, sending the knife flying again. Then, after rolling around a bit, she managed to get behind him and put him in a chokehold.

Once he was gone – unconscious, not dead – she wearily clambered to her feet, one hand pressed tight against the steadily bleeding gash in her abdomen.

She checked the pulses of the other men, found all but the one who’d had the syringe dead. She searched them all too, finally finding the handcuff keys on that man as well. She took them and unlocked the cuffs, then leaned against the desk with a heavy sigh, then set about investigating the contents of the room.

She found a first-aid kit in one of the cupboards and proceeded to bandage her stomach wound. Then she took a coat that had been hanging on the wall and put it on - fully fastened, it hid the bloodstains perfectly.

Then she wiped down everything she’d touched with her bare hands and pulled the latex gloves she’d been wearing earlier back on and gently pushed open the door. The other two guards were both there, facing the corridor. The room must have been _very_ well sound-proofed because they showed no sign of having heard a thing.

Shelley hit both of them over the head with the but of one of the dropped guns, knocking them out, then dragged them both into the Security Office. She cuffed them together, looping the chain through an exposed pipe on the wall, then headed out.

She ducked into the storage cupboard and located the vent - about head-height on the left wall - right away. A screwdriver took a little longer to locate, but she eventually dug one out of a toolbox sequestered away in a corner. She unscrewed the vent cover and slid inside, finding it surprisingly spacious, then pulled the cover back to rest in its frame.

She crawled further in, turned a corner and then slumped against the wall with a pained gasp.

She’d had worse than this. She’d manage - there wasn’t too much further to go. She just had to go up two floors - the vents only led outside on the first floor and above, not the ground floor, for security reasons.

She sighed and started forward again, ignoring the warmth spreading at her middle.

She would make it. It just might take some time.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope everyone enjoyed! Not sure if I have more planned for this 'verse, but we'll see!  
> The title is literally because I was listening to Trouble by Coldplay while uploading this, lol.


End file.
